David Copperfield
informed his wife in my hearing, on that very occasion, that
I was ‘a young Roeshus’ - by which I think he meant prod-
igy.
When we had exhausted the subject of the stars, or rath-
er when I had exhausted the mental faculties of Mr. Barkis,
little Em’ly and I made a cloak of an old wrapper, and sat
under it for the rest of the journey. Ah, how I loved her!
What happiness (I thought) if we were married, and were
going away anywhere to live among the trees and in the
fields, never growing older, never growing wiser, children
ever, rambling hand in hand through sunshine and among
flowery meadows, laying down our heads on moss at night,
in a sweet sleep of purity and peace, and buried by the birds
when we were dead! Some such picture, with no real world
in it, bright with the light of our innocence, and vague as
the stars afar off, was in my mind all the way. I am glad
to think there were two such guileless hearts at Peggotty’s
marriage as little Em’ly’s and mine. I am glad to think the
Loves and Graces took such airy forms in its homely pro-
cession.
Well, we came to the old boat again in good time at night;
and there Mr. and Mrs. Barkis bade us good-bye, and drove
away snugly to their own home. I felt then, for the first time,
that I had lost Peggotty. I should have gone to bed with a
sore heart indeed under any other roof but that which shel-
tered little Em’ly’s head.
Mr. Peggotty and Ham knew what was in my thoughts
as well as I did, and were ready with some supper and their
hospitable faces to drive it away. Little Em’ly came and sat